Journey of a Lifetime
by GreatOverseer
Summary: A terrorist attack at one of the most vital places in New Robloxia leads to an investigation by Dusek's Spectre Branch into the exploits of a group known as the Associates.
1. Chapter 1: Strike

"The Robloxian Transit System Mass Transportation Device will arrive at the East End Deposit at 9:54:40. Next stop, Central Landing Pad Station at 10:07:55. Now a message from the Admin Department of Safety. Passengers must stay in their seats with seatbelts safely fastened at all times. Repeat, passengers must stay in their seats with seatbelts safely fastened at all times. Coffee will be served to you shortly by the steward or stewardess manning this vessel. Have a safe trip."

Rain, falling from a sky as gray as granite, splattered on the thick, glass windows of the transport vehicle. Passengers sat silently listening to the clanking of the train on the railway. Mulligan was one of these sullen people, slouching in his leather seat and staring out at the tall, shining buildings of New Robloxia.

However, he was different from most of the Robloxians on the train. He had a different goal in mind. At one side of him was a briefcase. Mulligan held the handle of said briefcase gingerly, as if worried it was about to explode. He was thinking inside his head, contemplating a plan that he hadn't been involved in organizing, but was merely the one to execute it. And, in his pocket, a cold weight was present.

"The Robloxian Transit System Mass Transportation Device has arrived at the East End Deposit. Please disembark in an orderly fasion. We remind you not to draw any firearms or incendiary devices if you are dissatisfied with this trip. May we also remind you that all leftover items will be vaporized upon full emptying of this vessel. Have a nice day."

The passengers filed out, still silent, jostling each other, and passed through the exit and into the rain. A rocket sailed over Mulligan's head, but it was a mere surveillance craft. Nevertheless, it made him quicken his pace and blend in with the crowd as they gradually streamed towards the East End Deposit.

At the checkpoint, guards with M1 Garands slung over their shoulders were scanning the newcomers. Mulligan held the bag's handle tighter as the line drew ever so slowly forward.

What am I going to do? I can't just let them take the bag... the Associates will have my head for it.

His palms sweaty, he braced himself for the guard's scanner. The red beam quickly flashed over to his head, then fanned out and slowly glided down his shoulders, back, hips, legs, and finally his feet, whereupon a _DING _came from the scanner and the guard gave a grunt of surprise. Mulligan looked to the guard, who was scrutinizing the suitcase.

"May I ask you what's in the suitcase?" the guard inquired.

"No, no, it's nothing, just a new ream of paper, nothing else."

The guard shook his head. "The scanner detected there was a metal object in the suitcase. Scanners don't lie."

"Uh, no. The scanner must be wrong. Yes, wrong."

"I'm sorry. We've seen every trick in the book. Now, I'm not asking you to tell me what's in the bag. I'm demanding that you give it to us so we can search it."

Mulligan clutched the bag to his chest. "No," he pleaded. "They'll kill me..."

Both the guards levelled their M1 Garands in his direction.

"We will kill you, you're right," the guard said. "But only if you refuse to surrender the briefcase."

"I can't," Mulligan whispered.

"John, take aim," the guard ordered the other guard.

Mulligan had no choice. Blood was going to be spilled this day. But it wouldn't be his. He'd use the oldest trick in the book, but one the guards wouldn't be prepared for. He took a deep breath, pretended to resign himself to his fate, sad expression and all; then he ducked just as the guards fired from opposite directions.

"What? N-" the guard with the scanner cried out, then fell to his knees, his head in shards on the floor and blood pooling around his feet. The other guard was dead as well. Mulligan, ignoring the suddenly panicking Robloxians, picked up an M1 Garand and started running. Alarms screamed on all sides, blazing red. As he ran, Mulligan opened the briefcase and took out a red box. It was a bomb, a putty-based incendiary explosive with an added flame effect so that the evidence would be destroyed with the bomb. His feet falling lightly, Mulligan ran up the stairs to the second floor and the boiler room elevator.

He emerged on an open catwalk thousands of blox over the city. In the corner of his eye he registered the presence of a security craft. He only increased his speed.

When he made it to the other end he looked behind him. The craft had landed on the catwalk, and security guards were disembarking, M1 Garands and all. But it didn't matter because he had arrived at the foot of the massive boiler tank. He started to prime the bomb.

"STOP!"

A security guard entered and fired a shot at Mulligan. Mulligan rolled away and, from the floor fired his own retaliation shot. The guard flew back through the doorway and over the catwalk into oncoming traffic. The bomberman finished the priming of his device and placed it down out of sight in a shadow. When the rest of the guards entered, he was standing nonchalantly before the tank, holding the M1 Garand limply by his side, the tip barely scraping the floor. The senior guard held his gun in front of him, not an M1 Garand but a Desert Eagle shiny and new.

"Put your damn hands up!" the senior guard ordered.

"No," Mulligan said flatly. He shot the senior guard in the chest and charged into the ranks. He was immediately cut down by several rounds of Garand fire. As his vision faded to red, then to black, then to white, he smiled. At least the Associates hadn't done the job for the security guards. Then he died. The security guards kicked the body, and then looked around the room.

"Where's the bomb?" a security asked.

"We need to find it," an officer replied. "Bravo, Husky, take opposite corners."

Two guards ran to find the bomb. But it was futile, as from the right corner there came a white glow.

"Rescinding orders," the officer barked frantically. "Get back, get back! It's gonna go off! We did what we could! Get mo-"

The bomb detonated with the boiler in a dazzling ball of molten metal and plasma. The security guards were vaporized instantly, along with the body of Mulligan, the reinforcements waiting in the parked security craft, and the East End Deposit.


	2. Chapter 2: The Drug Raid

The funeral was held the next day. Eight symbolic coffins, draped in a white flag with a black and red R in the central region, were sent out into space. The mourners were many, and the remembrance was a bitter occasion with family members and close personal friends crying and wailing. Builderman himself showed up to the remembrance, and gave a speech in the honor of the fallen guards.

"Eight friends we all knew well," he had said, "crossed into the next land yesterday morning. Eight friends we all knew well were courageous and brave individuals, putting themselves at risk for the safety of New Robloxia. They didn't manage to prevent destruction, but their sacrifice is still a sign of their continuing respect for our homeland. We all loved and respected them back. In honor of these brave souls, I have given each family a million Robux, to get their lives back into shape again. Thank you, you eight warriors."

Telamon gave a much shorter speech after his leader had finished.

"Our fellow guards were cut down in the call of duty," he said. "Let's all remember them." He then walked off the stage, slowly, but not the sad kind of slow; more as if he was bored with the whole affair.

Outside the funeral hall, Telamon summoned a cohort of Admin Guards out of thin air with a click of his finger, and they formed a large group marching behind him.

"Get me Dusek," he snapped at one of the Admin Guards.

OOO

In another part of Robloxia entirely, it was early morning in Robloxity, the largest of the ten neighboring cities of New Robloxia. The sun glared off the buildings. It tiptoed into people's rooms and screamed, "BOO!". It bent shutters open and shone into the eyes of innocent sleepers. As with every morning, the sun was the most hated thing in Robloxity, at least for that time of day.

It shone especially bright on the police dormitories, and particularly onto Jack Steel.

Jack Steel, contrary to his last name, was (and he'd be the first to admit it) a coward. Never participating in any drug busts, robbery prevention excersizes, or break-in investigations, he was looked down upon by his superiors, who thought him to be "a waste of a five hundred-Robux badge". However, his friends thought that he'd grow into the role eventually, and would be promoted to sergeant within the next two months. _What optimists_, Jack had thought. _What gullible optimists. I can't even hit the broad side of a door with a three-foot shotgun._

He sat up, the sun burning his eyes and making him want to sneeze. Running a hand through his unkempt red hair, he picked up his standard-issue mission briefcase and traveled upstairs to the cafeteria. Eggs were frying. He could smell them frying, and it made his mouth water.

"Steel!"

He saw, from the mass of blue police uniforms, a particular individual seperate from the rest. SHE was coming towards him purposefully, carrying a tray piled high with...

"Bacon," Jack said, "of course. How did you know?"

"You've been on the force five months now," Angelica pointed out, as they slid next to each other on a bench. She offered him her plate of bacon, which he willingly accepted. There was the sound of crunching.

Angelica didn't stand out in the crowd like most female Robloxians did. This was largely due to the fact that her hair was cut short. Robloxians, especially the young, old, and terminally immature had asked whether anybody had mistaken her for a boy. Whereupon she asked them the exact same thing, because she wouldn't back down from a question, especially if it was at her expense. She was also short, very short. Of course, in the Star Wars universe, Yoda was short, and did that ever stop him from being badass? No. What Angelica lacked in height, she made up for with muscle. She could lift a motorcycle over her head when she needed to, which turned out to be almost every other week.

"Mad Man says that 216 detected Sanchan's hideout," Angelica said.

"Really?"

"Oh yes," Angelica affirmed, a piece of bacon sticking out of her mouth like a straw.

"Where is it?" Jack asked.

"Up your prostate. No, but seriously, it's in the restaurant."

Jack spat out a strip of bacon.

"I've been going there every day for my breaks," he sputtered. "How did I not see?"

"You don't get it," Angelica said. "The base is underneath the restaurant."

"Oh." Jack relaxed a little.

"And they're planning to blow up the restaurant if the city doesn't give them a license to peddle their... wares."

Sanchan was a drug dealer, the most famous (or infamous) in Robloxity. He dealt in everything that made little stars pop in people's eyes, but chiefly crack and ecstasy. The police had been on his trail for months, searching up and down city limits, organizing border patrols to catch him sneaking out, and inspecting cellars. But they had failed. Now, however, the police had the edge.

Jack Steel finished the plate of bacon, licked his lips, and got up. Angelica stood as well.

"Mad Man wants us out in the parking lot," she informed Jack, "just in case you didn't get the memo."

"Coming," Jack grumbled. He stomped out onto the front landing, twenty feet up from the paved road. then, walking down the ramp that lead to the parking lot, he was greeted by row upon row of RPD officers, guns all at the ready, literally dressed to kill. He took up his position amongst them, and drew his RPD20cal. Holding it in the ready position, Jack waited. The sun shone, but it was a cold and bitter morning. Angelica was beside him. She held a modified RPD20cal, with a laser sight and scope, plus twist-on rifle barrel.

"You've got a way better chance with that thing than I've got with this piece of shit," Jack whispered.

"Thanks," she replied.

"Cover me," Jack added.

"Will do, Jack." Angelica gave a mirthless smile.

The police chief stepped in front of them at that moment, and whatever quiet chatter had been going on before quickly stifled itself. Mad Man was not somebody to be messed with. Nor was 216, who was standing beside him, hat pulled down over his eyes.

"ALRIGHT, GIRLS!" Mad Man bellowed. "THIS IS THE PLAN! WE GO INTO THE RESTAURANT AND BUST SOME HEADS! GOOD PLAN, RIGHT?!"

"Yes sir!" chorused the ranks of officers.

"NO IT IS NOT A GOOD PLAN! SHUT UP!"

The crowd quieted down.

"THIS IS AN AMAZING PLAN, GENTLEMEN, WRITTEN BY OUR DEVIOUS 216 OVER HERE! GIVE HIM A STANDING OVATION!"

The crowd started to clap.

"EVER HEARD OF SARCASM, GENTLEMEN?!"

"Yes sir!"

216 unfurled a roll of paper, and a projector cast an image onto its flat, white surface.

"This is the restaurant's cellars," he explained. "Sanchan is walled up here, in this compound. Now, he's got guards everywhere. The infrared scans detected forty hearts beating, and forty heat signitures, including Sanchan."

He walked a little ways over, to where a cop car emblazoned with an orange flag sat, lights off for the moment.

"If you're the squad leader, you'll follow this flag car. I'll be driving in it with Mad Ma-"

"INTERJECTION!"

"-the Chief, I mean. Follow us and don't get separated. We've ordered the streets to be cleared of all cars and pedestrians. Sound like a plan?"

"Yes sir!" shouted the officers.

"LET'S MOOOOOOOOOOOOVE OUT!" roared Mad Man. Everyone roared along with him and raised their guns above their heads.

"FOR ROBLOXITY!"

"YEAH!"

"RIGHT!"

"We're all screwed."

"GO GET EM!"

The squad cars pulled out. Red and blue fire coursed in the streets like blood through an artery. The trail of cop cars entered the main road, coming to a stop in the middle of the center-city four way intersection. RPD officers swarmed out of the cars. Jack and Angelica hurried along behind the rank, into the restaurant. The customers scattered, running out the side door, which was still free of cops.

"H-hello?" quavered the waiter. "May I take your... orders?"

"OPEN THE DOOR!" exploded Mad Man.

"W-what door?"

"THE TRAPDOOR, YOU NUMBSKULL!"

"H-hold on. Wh-what door?"

"THEN THERE IS A DOOR IN HERE?!"

The waiter pulled a desert eagle out of his baggy overalls and fired ten shots. Two cops fell, and the rest opened fire. When the waiter was dead, the mob stormed into the kitchen. The lead cook revealed an Uzi from his floppy hat and tried to shoot the cops. However, the ammo ran out. Angelica shot him in the chest with a _fwip!_

"All clear, Chief!" she called back to Mad Man.

The cellar entrance, when exposed, was made of weathered stone sprinkled with the smell of cocaine. Immediately, two guards with sawed-off shotguns stepped out of the shadows and opened fire. Jack rolled to avoid a shot made by one of the criminals, tried to shoot said criminal, but missed. Angelica aimed the laser pointer at the criminal's chest and gave him heartburn. The other criminal was shot in the foot, and fell to his death down the elevator shaft that had just been revealed by a flashlight.

Deploying a rope, the squad climbed down into a deserted, dank cave. Mad Man then stopped them to brief them on the next stage of the plan.

"EACH OF YOU FIND A TEAMMATE!" he ordered.

"Pair up?" Jack asked Angelica.

"You know the answer, right?" Angelica replied.

"Yes, I do..."

"GO YOUR OWN SEPERATE WAYS WITH YOUR TEAMMATE! FIND SANCHAN'S ROOM, OR AT LEAST FIND SANCHAN!" Mad Man continued. "RADIO BACK WHEN THAT S.O.B'S DEAD ON THE GROUND!"

Jack and Angelica chose a side passage, which they scampered into, guns at the ready in front of them. Angelica switched the laser pointer off and kept running.

OOO

Back at the cavern, Mad Man and 216 waited patiently for the report. Everything was quiet.

"216, HAVE YOU GOTTEN ANYTHING YET?!" howled Mad Man.

"No, sir."

Suddenly, a panel opened up in the stone wall. Mad Man squinted at it. Then, a shelf of metal extended from it. Standing on the edge was a man in a white jacket, a blue shirt, and white smooth business pants. He had red hair, almost a flourescent orange. Sanchan.

"You're splewed, _senor_," he grinned. He then walked backwards, around the nuclear bomb rigged to detonate in ten minutes.

"**WHAT?! WHAT IS THIS?! COME BACK HERE, YOU COWARD! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!**" Mad Man howled so loud that the earth quaked slightly and 216 held his hands over his ears. The rope ladder they had come down on was retracted. 216 stared in disbelief. Mad Man stopped his NOOOOOO just in time for the sound of the nuclear bomb starting to tick away to echo through the cavern.

OOO

Angelica approached the corner cautiously, Jack Steel following closely, guns held with their arms at ninety degree angles above their heads. They saw, beyond, a room full of criminals with AK-47s, pistols (desert eagles and Glocks in particular), and shotguns sawed off and otherwise.

"We can't go through," Angelica whispered back to Jack.

"What do you propose I do about it?" Jack replied. "I mean, if you're implying I should do something. Remember, I can't hit the broad side of a door."

"We'll find an alternate route," Angelica muttered, and retreated backwards, straight into an enemy carrying a dagger who had been sneaking up all that time. Jack pulled his gun out, in a desperate last-ditch attempt to save his friend, and in the blink of an eye fired. The criminal, white suit stained with blood, staggered back, clutching at his heart. He turned a baleful eye to Jack, who was standing there, mouth agape, staring at his pistol.

"Me has matado... imposible," the criminal moaned, and fell forwards, flat on its face.

It was then that both Jack and Angelica saw the bright orange hair on the dead man lying there before them.

"What the holy mother of Telamon's nursemaid..." Jack swore.

"You killed SANCHAN!" Angelica burst out.

"What?!" a voice screamed from the room with all the criminals in it. General panic from that area ensued. Angelica whipped out her walkie talkie, and still with an expression of disbelief on her face called 216.

"Sanchan's dead," she reported.

"Well, did you *static* kill him?"

"No..." She caught Jack's eye. "It was constable Steel, sir."

"Steel? *static hum* The one that failed all *krsshh* -s courses in firearms killed the most infamous drug dealer in *pfffft* -obloxity?"

"Yes, sir, he did... he did."

OOO

"Well, that's a turnup for the books," 216 quipped, and turned off his walkie talkie.

"He's dead, Chief," he added, to Mad Man.

"WELL WHO KILLED THE BASTARD?!" questioned Mad Man. "WAS IT ANGELICA?! PEYTON?! HADDICK?!"

"Neither, sir," 216 murmured. "It was..." and here he sighed, "...Jack Steel, Chief."

"STEEL?! THE ONE THAT FAILED ALL HIS COURSES IN FIREARMS KILLED THE MOST INFAMOUS DRUG DEALER IN ROBLOXITY?!"

"My sentiments exactly, sir," 216 agreed. "Bloody impossible, but it appears to have happened whether or not it is impossible. Beginner's luck, sir-"

"GIVE HIM A DAMN MEDAL AFTER THIS BOMB'S DEACTIVATED, WHAT?!"

"A medal?"

"YES, A MEDAL! GET ANGELICA ON THE LINE AND TELL HER THE BOMB'S NEAR HER POSITION!" Mad Man turned his back and tapped his foot irritably.

OOO

"Angelica, there is a nuclear bomb ready to detonate in three minutes about *hrssshhhgg* -nty-five feet from here through the next corridor,"

216's voice said from the com.

"Right, 216," Angelica said, and turned off the com. "We need to defuse the nuclear bomb nearby down this passageway," she said to Jack, who nodded, eyes still fixed upon the gun.

She looked around the corner, into the room where the criminals had been. Flipping a switch on her pistol, she adjusted the twist-on barrel and peered through the scope. The room was again filled with guards, four of them, holding SMGs and decked out in full body armor. Angelica sighed. This was it. Now or never, her quick action defense classes would pay off. She grabbed Jack's arm and lunged into the room. Shots ricocheted around her as she ducked, rolled, straightened up, shot. A guard died instantly. The others continued to fire stupidly in vaguely her direction.

"Load artillery!" Jack heard a criminal scream from his right. He raised his pistol and shot with a shaking hand. The artillery cannon, in the process of being loaded, was struck. There was a whoomph, a smell of burning gunpowder, and finally a sad sound like _cwimplepfft_. Jack looked at the cannon. There were no criminals (or at least no live ones), and the wall had three untarnished outlines of Robloxians fixed in a ghastly frieze, hands over their heads.

"Writing's on the wall," Jack grinned. Then he passed out.

The ledge with the nuclear bomb sitting on it was only about five by five feet in area, and made of some sort of metal mesh. Angelica saw Mad Man and 216 looking up in her direction.

"The bomb's going to go off in two minutes!" 216 shouted.

"Okay, okay!" Angelica retorted, and pried the lid off the back of the bomb's casing. A forest of wires presented itself. She recoiled. Taking out a toolkit from her police vest, she opened it and selected a scalpel of sorts. Then, looking at the wires, she cut a blue one. From Mad Man's perspective, the timer skipped down to a minute.

"ANGELICA! THE TIMER WENT DOWN! IT'S AT A MINUTE!"

"I'm working on it..." Angelica grumbled. She snipped a green wire, and the timer sputtered out, then started counting down twice as fast. Teeth clenched, Angelica snipped the red wire next to the cut green wire. This time, the timer stopped. 216 released the breath he'd been holding all that time.

"We're safe, Chief," he informed a (for once) relieved Mad Man. "Let's call in the choppers, and give young Jack a medal."

"I STILL CAN'T BELIEVE IT," Mad Man said, as 216 flipped open his com.


	3. Chapter 3: Departure, Away From Home

"And so you see why Spectre Branch must get involved," Telamon concluded.

They had met on the top floor of the Admin Palace. Dusek had arrived in typical Dusek style, in other words with a lot of blue fire. It had taken them ages to put out the carpet. Now they were sitting in comfortable throne-like armchairs, while Telamon sipped a wine glass and Dusek listened to his reasoning as to why his personal branch should get involved.

"Okay," he said. "We only have nine Secret Service men. Will that really be enough?"

"Yes, of course," Telamon drawled.

"I'll get organized straight aw-"

Dusek was interrupted by the ringing of a telephone. Telamon picked it up and answered.

"Hello?"

Somebody was speaking hurriedly from the other end. Telamon's eyebrow rose.

"Oh _really_?" he replied to an unknown piece of information. "Hmm, well, I'll just have to consider it." He put the phone down, turned to Dusek, and queried, "Guess what just happened?"

OOO

The medal was heavy around Jack's neck, but it was manageable. As he took off his police vest, he attracted the admiring looks of his fellow service members. A few eyed the medal enviously. Angelica, however, was beaming.

"Well, looks like you got the medal," she said.

"Yes, yes I did." Jack sat on the edge of his bed. "Lemme real the label on the back... here we go... 'FOR OUTSTANDING BRAVERY AND A SHARP EYE, HERE PRESENTING THIS MEDAL TO MR. JACK STEEL OF THE ROBLOXITY POLICE DEPARTMENT.'"

"Good number," Angelica agreed. "And bloody good aim. Did ya finally remember how to aim?"

"Nah, it was all luck," Jack replied. "That, and you were about to get shanked."

Angelica laughed. "Sanchan... that guy. Oh boy, he startled me."

"Yeah, but he died."

They were broken off from their conversation by the appearance of 216. 216, in his khaki trench coat that brushed the floor, the wide-brimmed black fedora he always wore pushed down over his eyes, strode down the steps into the dormitory. His boots made authoritative clicking sounds on the tiled floor. Everyone saluted.

"I would like Mr. Steel, please," he declared. There was silence.

"Yes, sir?" Jack said, standing to attention like a telephone pole.

"Come over here, lad, there's a good fellow."

Jack cautiously walked over in front of 216. The shadowy face lowered to his eye level.

"You need to come outside. There'll be a hovercraft ready to pick you up in ten minutes," the agent said.

"What?" Jack asked. He was put off by this information. A hovercraft? What was that?

"A hovercraft is like a bus," 216 explained, "only not a bus. It uses Lightblocks to get up high in the air. It's pretty nice, actually. We don't have any here, though, because we don't have enough money."

"So I'm to be picked up by a bus that ain't a bus," Jack asked, "that uses light to get up in the air?"

216 sighed.

"Yes, you could say that." Jack followed 216 as the latter headed upstairs into the entry hall. They passed the secretary. She, her gray hair pulled back into a bun, nodded and grinned. 216 saluted.

They went outside onto the parking lot. A dot was visible on the horizon. As they watched, it grew increasingly nearer and nearer. 216 pointed.

"That's it."

"Can I get my stuff?" Jack asked.

"They said you don't need anything."

"Oh." Jack paused. "Why are they picking me up?"

"They didn't say." 216 adjusted his fedora. "They only said 'This is top secret, we cannot tell you why we are taking him.' Stiff-ass dudes, I thought." His coat billowed around his ankles mysteriously. Jack stared straight ahead.

"Can I say goodbye to Angelica?" he asked.

"Nobody said you couldn't say goodbye," 216 replied. Jack hurried off to the dormitories, where Angelica was sitting on her bed.

"Hey," he said. She turned her head in his direction.

"You're leaving." It was not a question, but a flat statement, as gray and dull as a Tripfall marsh.

"Yes..." Jack cleared his throat, akwardly. "...I just wanted to say goodbye, before I go..."

Angelica stood up. They stared at each other for a while. Jack began to speak.

"Goo-"

She threw her arms around him. Jack's breath stopped in his chest. The goodbye he was about to say melted into the air as they embraced. Angelica buried her nose into his neck.

"I'll miss you," she said, more softly than he'd ever heard her say anything at all.

"Me too," Jack assured.

And they held each other.

"MR. STEEL!"

"Oh shit, Mad Man," Jack groaned. "I'm sorry, have to dash." He gently released Angelica, turned, and jogged out of her life. She resisted the urge to call back, tell him to stay with her in the force. It'd be lonely if he didn't return. But her parents had always told her to respect other's destinies, and she respected her parent's choices in turn. And she knew it was Jack's destiny to leave Robloxity, for he deserved better. She turned back to her bed, sat down, and tried to stay calm. And when the sound of engines roaring and fading went by, she gave up and slumped forward.

OOO

The interior of the hovercraft was lit with a dull blue light, which made everything a little more eerie than it should have been. Metal walls covered with military propaganda were the only things that presented themselves to Jack's probing eyes. He touched his medal, still hung around his neck. Robloxity seemed a distant dream already, something to be remembered, but never to return to. He shivered at the memory of Angelica, at the goodbye between them, at 216 shaking his hand with his gloved right one. He even, surprisingly, remembered his final goobye with Mad Man as a touching occasion, even though he detested the man.

Wanting to see more of where he was, he opened a window and stared out through the scratched clear plastic. Robloxity was a nest of lights far behind, and they were passing over a small bead of yellow which he knew was another, smaller town. Trees and hills stretched away from this town, all the way to the ocean far far away. And then he looked forward.

New Robloxia sat like a huge, glittering starfish ahead. He knew they were almost a hundred miles away, but it still loomed as though it was right at their feet. Tall, graceful buildings jutted against the skyline. Air traffic swarmed over the peaks (for that was the only appropriate word for these monstrous buildings) like bees. And somehow he knew that on the streets there would be billions if not trillions of people, going about their business in a cramped and noisy world. In short, Robloxity, formerly the biggest place he knew, was a minnow, at the side of a vast, gray whale. He breathed out.

"Impressive, isn't it," the pilot said. "Billions of years of hard work, and this is the result. A jewel, if ever there was one."

"I'd have to agree with you," Jack said, mesmerized by the intricate webbing of streets and skyscrapers dancing an orderly dance together.

"New Robloxia is amazing," the pilot blathered on, "at least from where I'm sitting." He chuckled. "On the ground, it's kinda lackluster, y'know."

"Have you been to Robloxity?" Jack asked.

"Yeah," the pilot replied. "Me 'n the wife go out there every year on holiday. Good fishin', I hear. I once caught a fish in that river that runs in the middle. Thing must've been as big as-" A buzz sounded. The pilot picked up a phone connected to the main control panel and answered an incoming call. Then he put the phone down.

"I've got to hurry," he said. "They need you there before 1:30 rolls by." The panorama laid out in front of Jack's eyes grew increasingly more blurred, and before he knew it they were flying over the massive buildings and the swarms of people, which Jack had been right about the number of. Some were literally crawling over each other.

The hovercraft turned around suddenly. The engines stalled. Jack, however, felt them going upwards. Then darkness enshrouded them. They appeared to be going up a long, dark elevator shaft, with walls covered in, yet again, military propaganda. Stains from water dripping over the concrete made the walls a mottled grayish-green color. Then light burst upon them, from a hangar bay that loomed into view. Lights hung from the ceiling on twenty-blox cords, thankfully shining down in a more natural, yellow hue.

The pilot got up out of his seat. "It's 1:24," he said, and handed Jack a rifle, which he looked at in confusion. "Good luck." The door to the hovercraft opened, and Jack was ushered outside. Then, as the hovercraft lowered back through the shaft, Jack looked ahead at the blank concrete wall.

And all of a sudden it wasn't blank.

A hatchway opened, cleverly hidden in the surface. Out of it stepped a soldier in full body armor, who raised its rifle to eye level. Jack stepped back, holding his rifle in front of him. The soldier put down its rifle, and raised its hand to its mouth.

"Are you a foe?!" it called.

"I don't think so!" Jack called back.

"Why you holdin' a Garand?!"

Jack held out the rifle. "Hovercraft driver gave it to me!"

The soldier gave a disbelieving snort.

"You sure you ain't a ter'rist?! Ya look mighty uncomfortable in 'ere!"

"That's because I've never been here!"

"Right." The soldier raised its rifle again. "Well, I don' believe ya. Eat lead!"

Jack, in pure desperation, raised his rifle and fired at the soldier. But it dodged, and fired a round back. Jack swerved to avoid the bullet, raised his rifle, and counterfired. The soldier spun, hit the floor with a thump - and vanished with a fizzle. The door in the wall disappeared.

"Good job," a voice said, and it was a very grand, imposing voice. "You've passed the test. Come this way, _Mister Steel_."


	4. Chapter 4: Agents of Spectre Branch

A tall man stood silhouetted in the light pouring from a doorway. He had hair that was curly, and cut short. For some reason, he was carrying a chicken under one arm. Jack walked over to this strange man. The face of the man was hard to describe. It was both kind and cruel at the same time, with a hint of laughter creasing the eyes but no laughter visible anywhere else. His hook nose was large, and his eyes were set slightly back in his head, although not enough that the glitter of mirth was smothered. They were ice blue, those eyes. Jack felt as though his soul was slowly being probed, taken apart, examined by those laser-bright pools of sapphire.

"H-hello?" he stuttered.

"You know who I am?" the man inquired. The eyes still bored into him.

"Not really," Jack admitted.

"My name is Shedletsky, John Shedletsky. And do you know why you're here?"

"No."

Shedletsky laughed, an eerie sound coming from that birdlike face. "I should really tell my personell not to be so damned secretive. It's getting on my nerves. Come with me. We have much to discuss... you, me, and the other Admins."

OOO

The council room was huge.

A three-quarter-circular table, with the interior open, dominated the massive room. Around it, in swiveling chairs, sat the Robloxian Admins. Such a gathering of power was unheard of in other cities, but in New Robloxia the power of all Adminship resided in one room.

"So," Telamon said, ushering Jack in. He felt like an ant. "This is Mr. Jack Steel. He's the man who killed Sanchan."

The shadowed figure at the head of the table nodded. All the Admins bowed their heads for a few seconds.

"Dusek," it said. "Look at the man you have requested. Is he not fitting?"

The Admin with the blue skull and antlers, which were on fire, looked at Jack.

"Yes, he does seem to be in perfect physical condition," he agreed. "Probably from all those years of being a policeman. Am I right, Jack."

"Yes, sir," Jack muttered.

"What was that? Your voice doesn't seem to carry."

"Yes sir," Jack said, a little louder.

"You're being selected," Dusek continued, "to be part of an... elite core of people. Are you up for the fieldwork?"

"Yes."

"The long hours?"

"I don't have any other choice."

"The itchy suit?"

"Pardon?"

"The itchy suit, I said."

"Well... is it really itchy? Like bed of nails itchy?"

"No, just cat hair itchy."

"What's a cat?"

"Never mind. Are you willing to be an agent?"

"Yes," Jack said.

"Good, that's all I needed to know," Dusek replied. "Council dismissed?"

"Council dismissed," agreed Baszucki. "Although that was a little... quick."

"Agreed," said another Admin, Wukong. "We could've had a few stretches, y'know... maybe a few poses..." As Jack and Dusek left, he continued, "... and a few hamstring stretches, maybe a few poses more, maybe he could take his pants..."

OOO  
Jack's new room was rather small, but branched into a larger room, which then branched off into nine more small ones. There was barely room to pace around, much less to run. Jack felt claustrophobic, or he would have if not for the large window, revealing an incredible view of New Robloxia. The window just made him feel insecure, like he'd topple backwards one day and break the window, and fall forever.

He had his first meeting with his fellow agents in a half an hour, so he wanted to look his best. Looking in the small adjoining bathroom area, he discovered a moldy old toothbrush, a comb, and some soap that looked as if it had been gnawed on by a large rat. _Well shit_, he thought, _it's like a bad hotel room_. Doing his best with the toothbrush, he combed his hair under the tap water that smelled of metal and despair, then straightened his RPD uniform he'd came here in. Then he stood around and waited. There wasn't really a lot to do with his time, especially since his room could be likened to a cardboard box in that there wasn't a lot inside that could occupy anybody over the age of five.

A buzzer sounded from the alarm system. Jack turned to the door of his room, opened it, and stepped out into the center room. The floor, however richly carpeted it was, still gave off the feeling of underlying squalidity. An agent was standing at the other side of the room.

"Hey," he said. He had white hair that flowed down to his shoulders, and a thin, almost feminine face.

"Hey," Jack said. They faced each other.

"Think fast," the man said suddenly, and swung for Jack's ear from across the room. Jack was hit very hard and rebounded from the attack dazed and confused.

"Hey!" he exclaimed. "What the hell was that for?"

"Just testing your reflexes," the man said. "Sorry, just a habit of mine. I won't do it again. Well," he added, extending a black-gloved hand from the sleeve of his neatly pressed gray suit, "you seem to be the new guy. I'm Namek. What's your name?"

"Steel..." Jack hesitated. But what harm could it do? "...Jack Steel."

"Nice to meet you, Jack," Namek said, and flashed a quick smile. He gave off the impression that he was merely in the world to inspect it and have a good laugh about what he found within. Jack rubbed his ear absentmindedly.

"I hit Block once," Namek recounted, "just like I hit you, when he first came here... The man's got a blow like a sledgehammer - no, like a train." He grinned again, and pointed to an indentation in the wall to Jack's left. "That's where he hit me."

"Who?"

"Block? Oh, you'll meet him. Everybody does. He's like the tank of the team."

Another agent exited a door to Namek's right. Namek gave him a Namekian smile. "Mornin', Hamburg," he said. "How's the burn treating you?"

"Vell," replied Hamburg, and went about his business. He had a red mark on the right side of his face. It looked rather painful.

"Not very talkative, is he?" Jack ventured.

"He doesn't know a lot of our language," Namek explained. "He got here from Bloxburg a few months ago. He's the second-newest guy here."

"When did you get here?" asked Jack.

"I'm the fifth guy who ever entered this place. You know how Dusek got me? He found me robbing a bank from the outside, said to me, 'You know you could be an agent someday if you quit doing that', and Bob's your uncle."

"My uncle's dead," Jack said.

"Oh. Figure of speech, figure of speech..."

A panel in the center of the floor slid back, and everyone jumped. It was unexpected, as well as quick. A cylindrical capsule sped up the exposed elevator shaft, and came to a halt when the elevator floor and the room floor were even. Dusek stepped out.

"There's been an incident," he barked. "Over at the marketplace, two small bombs detonated. It was just ten minutes ago, and we think the bomber is still around somewhere!" He glanced over at Jack. "Get him a Shiny Gun and SARGE. He'll need 'em if he's to come along!"

Dusek walked back into the elevator, closed the door, and with a FWOOP rocketed back down the shaft. The hatch closed behind him.

"We should show yer the armory," said an agent with a build like a rhinoceros. "In dis door 'ere." He indicated a blast-proof metal door with black and orange markings on it. Jack walked up to the door.

"Where's the handle?" he asked.

"Oh, yeah. I forgot, it's a fingerprint scanner," said Namek. He took off a black glove, and Jack, for an instant, saw what looked like burns and scars knotting the man's delicate hands. Namek pressed his finger down. The door slid open. Steam roared out. Jack felt as if he'd been hit by a sauna. Inside the weapons room were... weapons (because what else would there be in a weapons room?). There were all different kinds of pistols, a few light assault types, multiple submachine-guns, and a shelf full of ammunition cases. It was a Republican's dream.

"How do you have this much stuff here," Jack asked incredulously, "without being robbed?"

"Turrets," was Namek's answer. "But we still have to take care of the bodies." He ushered Jack into the room. The humidity was making Jack sweat like a geyser. He already knew instinctively that his shirt was as good as ruined. Namek fished around in a row of pistols, then handed Jack a gun that was so shiny he could see his reflection looking back.

"This is the Shiny Gun," Namek said, matter-of-factly. "The SG Version 349, to be all exact about it. It can fire either bullets or shotgun ammunition, alternating. The barrel can expand and contract depending on what ammunition you desire to shoot. The SG349 also comes with a laser sight, flashlight for dark places, and a flip-up scope."

"Wow," said Jack, turning the gun in his hands. "How'd you know all that?"

"I memorized the instruction manual," said Namek, and laughed.

"What's the SARGE?" asked Jack. "I mean, if you're gonna make a whole little acronym thing for it, it seems to be important..."

"Der SARGE stands fer 'Semi-Automatic Rocket Generator Engine'," explained the bulky agent. He took an armband from a shelf. The armband had a tube attached to it, which was apparently the SARGE itself. The bulky agent gave Jack the SARGE, and Jack began to strap it onto his arm.

"WAIT!" yelled Namek. He took the SARGE, and flipped a small switch on its right side. He then gave it back to Jack. "Safety was off."

OOO

The agent's deployment truck sped out of the garage. Inside the vehicle, Jack Steel was learning how to aim and fire a gun. Namek was teaching him, as he'd taught all the recruits after he'd joined.

"See that little knob on the end of the barrel?" he asked. Jack nodded. "Sight down that," Namek ordered. "The scope works wonders sometimes, but you really cannot beat a nice traditional sight mechanism." Jack looked down the sight to the training dummy that Namek had pinned to the wall. It was made of ballistic blocks, made to resemble a Noob. Jack fired a regular bullet into the dummy.

"Wrong, wrong!" Namek reprimanded. "You're aiming for the heart, not the spleen. Try again."

Jack tried again, and hit the dummy in the hand.

"Wrong again! You're too stressed! Sight down the barrel, like it's natural for you! Don't give in to the stress!"

Jack tried a third time. The bullet spun out of the end of the barrel, and with a thwang it buried itself in the dummy's heart region. Namek clapped as the red lights in the dummy's eyes went dim. "Good job," he congratulated. "You probably won't need the shotgun ammo this time. We're tracking down one guy, not ten."

The truck stopped, and the back opened. The agents dropped out, took battle stances, and surveyed the scene. Jack, not knowing a battle stance to take, simply sighted down the barrel of his SG349.

The agents moved out. Namek grabbed Jack's arm. "I'll cover you," he promised. "Just come with me, 'cause you're the new guy."

They ran down a dark alleyway, pipes dripping. Their feet splashed in puddles. Horrible fungi grew from cracks in between the brickwork.

Then they saw him. He was short, and wearing a leather jacket, and on his back was a cluster of bombs. He was running, no, pelting towards where the two agents were, but couldn't see them in the dark of the alley. Namek ducked behind a pipe, took out his SG349, and held it in both hands. The bomber saw the flash of shiny metal, and in turn ducked behind a fruit crate. Then the gunbattle began.

Bullets roared past Jack's head. He rolled behind another pipe, took aim at the terrorist, and fired. The bullet missed and hit a fallen watermelon, which exploded. Jack reloaded, and while he did so the terrorist took out an AK-74 and started spraying the alleyway with flecks of death. Namek peered at Jack.

"I think we should advance when he's reloading," Jack whispered.

"Right."

They stayed behind the pipes for a long while. Bullets unpacked the packed earth of the alley floor, creating large clouds of dust. Then the sound of shooting died away, and clicks were heard. Somebody swore as a piece of metal hit the ground with a crack. Jack and Namek saw their chance and took it. They stepped out from behind the pipes, guns drawn. They assumed a position where the terrorist would have no opportnity to escape without getting a bullet in his brain.

"Put the gun down," Namek ordered. "You're under arrest, by order of Dusek."

The terrorist spat at Namek's boots.

"You're nothing to us!" he sneered.

Namek hit him on the back of the neck. The guy was out of it before he even hit the floor.


	5. Chapter 5: Interrogation Interrupted

The prisoner was bound, strapped by his hands and feet to a metal chair. He looked to be about fifty, with thinning hair, worry wrinkles around his eyes, and a pasty complexion. Under any other circumstances, as in when the RPD made their frequent homicide arrests, this man would have been sent off innocent, because he was just that type of person. But Jack had seen bombs strapped to his back. This man was a terrorist, plain and simple. Or was it plain and simple? In crime, nothing was plain and simple.

"Who you workin' for," asked Block, the rhinoceros-built agent who had shown Jack the armory. His large hands were balled into carefully controlled fists at his sides. His square jaw was set in a firm state, and not likely to give in to leverage, even with a crowbar.

"I'm not telling," the terrorist replied, and then winced as Block raised his hand. "I mean, uh, I work for a terrorist organization!"

"Which one?"

"Associates, they're called... they hire people for fifty dollars a day, my man! I mean, who wouldn't accept that bargain?"

"And are yer in need of f'nancial aid...?"

"..."

"Answer," Block demanded. "Or do I have ter move yer mouth for ye?"

"... Yes. I'm... Bernard. Live in Imperialist Way with my daughters and my wife... we're impoverished... no money in the safe.. then the Associates came. They offered me money if I were to... if I were..." Bernard fell silent.

"You were ter... wot?"

"...Bomb the marketplace... and... the Council Building..."

Block turned to Namek, who moved forward and took charge of the interrogation.

"So, you say you were going to bomb the Council Building?" he asked. "You WERE going to? Who's doing it now?"

"...Another operative..," muttered Bernard.

"When is the attack to take place?" asked Namek.

"...Two days from now. Council's gonna make a decision on the Tix vs Robux argument, see. When the decision happens, the operative's going to detonate the bomb..."

Suddenly he stiffened. His mouth opened and shut, but it was clear something was drastically, _horribly_ wrong. His skin started to bulge outward, straining at his restraints. Jack watched, horrified, as a gruesome transformation occured. Bernard's eyes filled with dark red blotches, and then started to distort like marshmallows in a microwave. His hair fell out, and spines began to erupt from the leftover pores. The small pockmarks on his neck began to quickly enlarge, become deeper. And his skin turned a horrifying yellowish-black, bubbled, and began to fry off. The scream that erupted from his lungs as they rid themselves of oxygen would have chilled the blood of any man. The skeleton sitting in the chair struggled as its bones deteriorated. The stricken eyes looked in desperation at Namek, who had drawn back in revulsion. Then the skull collapsed inwards, impaling the brain and killing the prisoner.

"_What_..." Jack tried to find words to fit the situation, but none were forthcoming. Namek tentatively stuck a finger in the residue, which was even now evaporating, and yelped. "It's bloody hot!" he yelled.

"He said two days from now..." Jack muttered, staring at the eyeballs that were jumping around in the goo like popcorn.

"We'd best find a way to station ourselves in the Council Building," Namek said, standing up. "Come on!"

They hurried out of the interrogation room.


	6. Chapter 6: The Council Building, part 1

The Council Building was gargantuan in size, lit on all sides by blue floodlights. Crowds milled around it, and within it. The building itself looked like an egg, split in half and held up by an exterior ring around the bottom. Sticking up at the North, South, East, and West ends of the ring were spires, piercing the clouds, and not showing any signs of mercy at that moment. Dynamic lighting was put to its best here, in the blue lighting, the window illumination, and the spire lights that alerted oncoming traffic of their presence.

Below an overhang, there was a crowd of automobiles, slowly grinding to a halt in front of a door guarded by a bouncer. A particularly lavish sports car pulled up, diamond wheel engraving sparkling. The door opened. Out stepped two aristocrats: one was taller and had long white hair growing down to his shoulderblades, and the other was a bit shorter and had hair so encrusted with gel at the front that the light of the doorway reflected back into the bouncer's eyes. He blinked.

"Authorization codes, please, gents," he requested. A card was proffered in his direction, and seconds later another was rudely but oh-so-aristocratically shoved under his nose. He read them, aloud, pausing to let some of the difficult words take form in his head.

"'Jackcool1337... and... 99Iaserbeam99. And you're assisting Councilman Merely. Well, I say that's a good lot you've got the-" The two cards were swiped back from his unresisting fingers, and the two aristocrats stalked into the Council Building's atrium.

As they did so, they looked at each other, gave a high five, and laughed.

OOO  
Ten minutes later, "Jackcool1337" and "99laserbeam99" were shown to their room by a steward. The steward, visibly uncomfortable in his ill-fitting suit, opened the suite door. "Your room, sirs," he said snootily (which was basically a job requirement for a Council Steward).

"Why thank you, my good man," said Jackcool1337.

The steward felt extremely rewarded as he walked back to the elevator he'd come up on. He'd done a good job, and they had thanked him, which was more than most people ever did. He resisted doing a little dance.

Inside the room, Namek (who was 99laserbeam99) took off his suit and set it down on one of the two beds. He then walked slowly around the room, as Jack did the same. Namek squinted at the doorknob, twisted it. There was a click, and a small, barely noticeable hum of static. He grinned. Then he took out his shiny gun, made the barrel very thin, and pulled the trigger. A small needle extended into the door handle, and the static stopped.

"The room's bugged," he explained. "They always do this to the rich people. It's like they don't trust them."

Jack looked at the doorknob, now with one extra hole in its artistically pockmarked surface. Namek looked at him in puzzlement.

"What are you waiting for, man?" he asked. "Go find me some more bugs!"

As Namek expeditiously searched his side of the room for hidden listening devices, Jack decided it was better to look for the more visual kind of spy equipment. He lifted paintings, and found not one or two but twenty cameras, which, because he didn't know how to use the Shiny Gun needle, he instead hit with a wall ornament. The wall ornament turned out to be bugged as well, but because Jack had used it to beat other bugs into broken circuitry so much that hardly mattered anymore.

When all the bugs were gone, Namek took what looked like a checkbook out of his pocket. He opened it, and a screen flipped out. Then, as more screens flipped out, the suite was transformed into a sort of lab station. Soon they had an entire bank of screens in front of them. Namek pressed a button, and on every screen a different hallway was shown.

"Where's this?" Jack asked.

"It's the Council Building," Namek said.

"Oh."

"Right? 'Cause we're looking for terrorists inside the Council Building, so I've tapped into the security camera feed."

"And that does or does not include the bugs?"

"The bugs are put in by other Councilmen - well, by their assistants. We're tapping into the non-Councilman cameras."

"Right, right. Well is there anything I can do?"

Namek thought for a moment.

"Check the phone for bugs," he ordered.

Jack picked up the phone, checked it, and found to his surprise that there were no bugs on it.

"No bugs!" he called to Namek, who was staring at each video stream in turn.

"Good!" was the reply. "Now I guess we can get a good rest before we have to show up for 'assistant duty'."

"Wait," said Jack, "I thought we were just infiltrating the building."

"No," laughed Namek. "We gotta act the part."

They both took a two hour rest.

OOO  
As the Councilmen filed into the Council Hall, Jack and Namek waited in the doorway. Namek had, in his hand, a sort of recorder thing; in more descriptive terms, it was a gold, cylindrical object, linked with a cord to a small panel attachment. What this did was beyond Jack, seeing as Namek seemed to just pull devices out of his ass.

Merely strode ahead. Out of all the aristocracy, Jack was the most familiar with Merely. After all, who wasn't? Golden suit and all, he inspired many emotions. Fear, hate, lust, love, jealousy-in short, all the basic emotions that comprised the average Robloxians' toolkit. The man was just inspiring, although Jack found him a bit lackluster up close. It wasn't surprising how he had gotten the membership position for New Robloxia. Anybody would vote for him, given enough bribe money.

But Merely went right along into the Council Hall as if he owned the place (and, being one of the richest Robloxians of all time, he possibly did). Thundrous applause broke out for the great man as he strode up to a platform. The platform was part of a ring of other similar platforms, in a room that was shaped like a hollow sphere with a diameter of a thousand blox. Each platform housed a UFO-like ship, which Merely entered and beckoned Jack and Namek to take seats on the outside of. Jack, from where he was sitting, could see the crowd, thousands strong, thronging the seats and the aisles, stuffing their faces with rich food provided by the Adminship. Speaking of the Adminship, they sat on a central platform decorated with gold, at almost the same semicircular table they had been sitting in when Jack was evaluated. He was sure, just for a moment, that Dusek looked over at him and winked. But, then again, he could have just been imagining it. The UFO stopped, along with some differently colored UFOs, in a complete circle around the Admins. Baszucki stood up, still wreathed in shadow. He raised his staff.

"SILENCE!" he bellowed, and not another word was spoken.

"We gather here today to discuss a topic most important to many! Is the currency going to be split between Robux and Tix; or are Tix going to vanish, to be replaced by the former?!"

There were many stifled shouts from the crowd.

"Leave the discussion to the representatives!" Baszucki bellowed.

The crowd was shut up for good as the baleful eye of the Head Admin swept over them.

Merely brought his UFO slightly closer to the platform.

"Here's my position on this whole thing," he began. "We've had a massive conflict ever since Roblox Points were split in two to create Robux and Tix. Let's say we take away Robux. Then the poor noobs will be the rich noobs. Our marketplace will be crippled. All Robux deals made with electronic means will be rendered inactive and obsolete... and the richest among us will be hopeless."

"I'm picking up a lot of random noise," Namek whispered to Jack during the outbreak of screaming from the crowd at this statement.

"And what do you want me to do?" Jack replied.

"I have no idea. Just sit tight and wait for the debate to be over."

"But," Merely continued after the noise had died down, "if we take out Tix, then the ones with Robux, the smart ones, the ones who made good investments, will prevail and become a stronger upper class to hold the noobs together like a very high class glue."

Some Councilmen were cheering, from the UFOs that were still mounted on the wall. But from beside Merely another voice spoke up. It came from a bald man in a dark red suit, with an elaborate tie and a carnation pinned to the lapel.

"I'm Councilman Jacenman and I disapprove of Merely's motion," he said.

"Really?" Merely folded his arms. Behind Jack, Namek craned in to listen to his recorder. "Go on. Say it. I'll just fire a snappy retort back at you and we'll see if it holds water."

"Challenge accepted," Jacenman replied. "I believe that Tix should be the ruling currency, not Robux. We've had somewhat of a history of abusing Robux. For a hundred Robux, rich people kill each other. For a thousand, rich people kill each other and piss on each others graves. Robux has caused too much strife among people with more than they know what to do with. But, if we make Tix the primary currency, and dial Robux back until it doesn't exist... then we will have a new, more responsible upper class, free of the burden of Robux. These new aristocrats, furthermore, will be more responsible with their money, because hard times bred them to be wise spenders. Whereas the rich were merely-" and here the crowd gave a small laugh "-set up for the job by the Admins or some other rich guy, and have no experience with their money except in the buying and selling of limiteds."

The crowd, or at least that side that was less opulently decorated, applauded. Merely launched into a counterargument. Namek suddenly tapped Jack on the shoulder, making the latter jump. "Wha-?"

"Listen here," Namek hissed. Jack craned in with Namek. "I've dialed down a bit of the ambient noise, and I found something that might just be what we've been looking for..."

The audio was scratchy as if it were coming from a horribly beaten record disc. But through the static, they could hear, clearly, two voices arguing.

_"-will be placed in the right alcove, right?"_

_"No, you idiot. Look, Chairman Decahedra explained it. We're to put the bomb on the support columns."_

_"Wait, I thought-"_

_"You thought wrong, Devon. Now shut up and let's go back to the room. We've seen enough of this bullshit politicking."_

_"Ooh, look at Merely's jacket-"_

_"Shut the hell up."_

Jack and Namek looked at one another.

"Looks like we found our terrorists, Jackcool1337," Namek whispered. He then gave one of his trademark, rogueish grins. Jack grinned back, uncertainly. "Permission to have a short leave of absence, your Honor?" Namek asked Merely. Merely, who had just finished with his counterargument, nodded, and piloted the UFO back to the exit and entrance plaform.

As they left, they kept an eye out for any other people who were leaving in the same direction, in case they were indeed agents of the Associates. And they were in luck, for at that moment two people crossed in front of them. They were wearing dark suits, and they were arguing. That was enough evidence for Namek and Jack that the two men they were following were the terrorists.

The four made their way to a corner, at the end of a long corridor carpeted with rich red velvet. At the corner, the two suspected Associates turned, and one of them caught Jack in his eye. He turned, smiling a rather forced smile.

"Well," he said gruffly, "we've crossed paths. How ya doin'? Name's Ereuy, by the way. 'S foreign."

"Hi," Jack acknowledged, sticking out a hand. "I'm Jackcool1337. You're asssitants to...?"

"Councilman Jacenman, my man," said Ereuy. "Well, gotta dash. I've got a lot of things to do with my assistant over in good ol' Room 7412." He hurried off, his assistant close on his heels.

"Well done, Jack," congratulated Namek. "That was some good acting right there. And... did they say where they were going by any chance?"

"They said..." Jack racked his brains. He was never good with memorizing long numbers (in other words numbers with over three digits). "... Room 7434? 7812? Ah, yes, it was 7412. Yes, indeed."

"Room 7412," Namek pondered. He brightened. "Hey, that's a few halls down from our room!"

"And that's a good thing?" Jack asked. "Say they were to detonate a bomb in there?"

"Look, it's a start," Namek said. "And hopefully we'll catch 'em before they do set off a bomb."


	7. Chapter 7: The Council Building, part 2

It was 11:45 PM in the Council Building. Everybody was either in bed or getting ready to go to bed. Those who weren't were occupied in the role of security guards, but they were busy screwing around with their friends and not watching any of the footage from the numerous cameras. Aside from them, there wasn't a peep; and not a man among the occupants wasn't going to bed.

Except for Namek.

He was bending over the folded-out monitor screens, looking intently at the feed coming from outside Room 7412. So far nothing was happening. Jack, folding his sheets over his bed, looked at Namek and sighed.

"Are we still staying up?" he inquired. "It's been five hours straight of bloody monitoring..."

"...They're in there somewhere," Namek muttered. Bags were forming under his eyes from sheer stress. "...They're in there, being slimy little terrorists..."

"Look, I really don't think they'll terrorize at this time of night," Jack reassured. "They're Robloxians, too, so don't they get tired?"

"Ah, criminals never get tired," Namek said. He clenched his fist. Jack remembered the scars that criss-crossed Namek's hands.

"Where'd you get the scars?" he asked, a little off topic.

Namek sighed. "Ah, it's a... memento," he said. "Something very bad happened to me, and all I'm left with are scars."

"Ah," said Jack. "War? Were you in any war groups?"

"No," replied Namek. "War groups weren't even popular..."

There was movement on the screen. Namek sat straighter. The door to Room 7412 was opening, slowly. Out of it came a reluctant gunbarrel. It looked like an AR-15, an assault rifle; there could be no possible mistaken identity as a Garand. A moment later, Ereuy cautiously stepped out, and then assured that nobody would see him ran off out of the view of the camera. A moment later, his assistant followed. And then there came five strangers armored in stealth gear, goggles with green lenses pulled tight over their eyes, scarfs covering their faces. Completely anonymous killers armed each with an Uzi. A formidable team, it seemed. But apparently, as Namek got up and pulled his Shiny Gun from his jacket pocket, this newfound terrorist team wasn't quite formidable enough to handle an agent of Spectre Branch.

"C'mon," he said to Jack, and then added, "Oh, and wash that hair gel out. In a good lighting I can see it gleam all the way from the door."

Jack washed out his hair in the sink, and then grabbing his shiny gun followed Namek. They exited the rom and walked slowly down the hallway, guns held in front of them ready for action.

"What's the plan?" Namek asked.

"What?"

"I thought you'd want a chance to make up a plan."

"Go... stealthy? Not going in all guns blazing?"

"Sounds good," agreed Namek. "Enter like a snake, strike like a tiger, that sort of thing?"

"Uh, yes," Jack said. "What's a tiger?"

"Never mind." Namek pressed his back to the wall.

A noise made them both jump. Namek pulled Jack into the shadow of a statue. From behind a corner stepped one of the terrorists. His breath fluttered the scarf around his mouth, and the goggles around his eyes glinted. The Uzi was held in a way that suggested the holder wasn't afraid of letting whatever stepped in front of him eat lead. The terrorist's boots made small scratching sounds on the carpet.

"Let's get back to the room," Namek whispered. "We'll waylay 'em as they come past." He snuck across a band of shadow, and Jack followed, walking crabwise as the terrorist motioned with his hand that it was safe to come around the corner. They entered their room, and Namek hunkered down at the security feeds. Jack shut the door quietly. The terrorists were moving like silk dolls through the hallways, and the security cameras were still rolling. Ereuy and his assistant moved back behind the others. One of the terrorists brushed the door gently. The noise made Jack jump a bit. He tried to steady himself, but the noise had done its damage. The terrorist's footfalls stopped.

"Boss, there's somebody in here. Thinks he's real quiet," the terrorist growled through the scarf.

Namek and Jack managed to shut down the screens, stow the container away under the bed, and barricade themselves in the closet before the door was kicked carefully open.

"You two," said Ereuy's voice, "get in there and search the room. Chairman Decahedra doesn't want anybody knowing about the operation."

Two figures stepped in, visible only slightly through the crack between the closet doors. They searched the bedsheets, the clothes strewn around the place, the cast-away formal Council jackets, and finally the kitchen.

"They're always hiding in the air vent," Jack heard one terrorist say to his colleague. "We always have to ventilate someone."

"So annoying," the other one agreed.

"Ready to make a last stand?" Namek whispered to Jack, just out of range of the terrorists.

"I'll do whatever you're doing," Jack replied. "You're my superior, after all."

They stole out of the closet. The terrorists were searching the bathroom, opening cabinets and rummaging through the fancy soap and shampoo within. A glass bottle fell and shattered with a tinkle on the tiles. The terrorist who had dropped it bent down to sweep up the pieces, looked up, and saw Namek looming over him. "Urk-"

The terrorist dropped dead into Namek's arms as the killer cut the other man's throat with his knife. Then, cleaning the blade, Namek slipped the corpses out of their clothes. He handed some to Jack.

"Put those on."

Jack obliged.

"Hurry up, men!" Ereuy barked. Jack hastened his assumtion of the terrorist's identity. Seeing an identity patch on the shoulder pad of the vest, he looked at it. _TehCoolDude44_, read the patch. _You can only appreciate somebody's work if you walk a mile in their shoes,_ Jack thought.

They finished donning the outfits, and walked out into the hallway, Uzis held out in front of them. Ereuy lead the way to the end of the hallway, and to a large statue of an unknown Admin, banhammer hefted proudly over its shoulder. Ereuy walked up to it, and prodded at its legs. "Damn," he muttered, "I knew that button was somewhere... why couldn't Decahedra have just made a nice little wall switch for me?" His finger sunk in. Grinning, he stepped back. The statue began to move slowly, without any sound save for a scraping noise that would have been indistinguishable from the ordinary sounds of Robloxity at night.

When the statue had finished its progress and gone all the way up into the ceiling, Ereuy leaped down an exposed pit. His assistant beckoned to the terrorists, and they all went down the pit together. The metal walls rushed by at breathtaking speed. And then as they hit bottom they bounced on some sort of rubbery surface. The room they'd fallen into was pitch black, but far ahead there sounded a rhythmic beep-beep noise.

Lights flickered on, large garish strip-lights that served their purpose moderately well but could have been improved. A roar sounded, and a panel opened in the wall opposite the group. Ereuy walked forward to the lip of a suddenly exposed gulley. Then a gray, bullet-like shape slid to a halt in front of him. The train opened its doors, and the entourage walked into a nondescript passenger area. The doors closed again, and in the blink of an eye the train had gone.

OOO  
There were many words to say about Decahedra, and yet none at all seemed to occur to all those before him. He could be described as imposing, tall, cool, steely, and dark. But using any words like that in front of him meant that you had gotten on his bad side. Description was for him and him alone, and all others under his command were in deep trouble if they so much as described how blue the sky was today.

And did he use description indeed. In their private minds, most of his colleagues thought of him as a large ham. He was a large ham. He spoke in a way that suggested he thought his every quote would be documented in the press. And he incessantly described everything.

Right then, he was pacing up and down. His dark and dully-colored armor was an unnecessary touch, but he liked it because it hid his face, and nothing would be more damaging to his reputation outside of the Associates than to have his face revealed to the world. So he preferred to go under the name Decahedron, and wear anonymity as a cloak.

A train pulled up beside him, and he stood in one place, ready to greet Ereuy and his associates.


End file.
